Quarantine Diaries, Vol. 2: A Thrill of Hope
We’re not technically in quarantine anymore, but given that I started what I apparently meant to be a series in April and the rona is most definitely still with us, I felt that a part 2 was appropriate now. Anyway!
Our church started Advent two weeks early this year. Like actually moved up the Advent sermon series and started singing carols in mid-November. I’m not a big Christmas-before-Thanksgiving kind of person, but if ever there was a year to kick off the season a tad early…2020 seems to be it.
Auntie Mame had it right: it seems we all need a little Christmas right this very minute.
I’ve seen more lights on houses, bigger decorations, and more Shiner Cheer in grocery stores than I’ve seen in recent years past. It feels like everyone is rallying hard to find some joy and merriment to offset what has been a stinker of a year.
But even in the rallying, I sense deep weariness. Everyone is exhausted. All of creation feels exhausted. As I’ve read the news, talked with friends, and lived life these last 11 months, I’ve felt more than ever what Paul calls in Romans 8 “the groan of creation”.
Our longing for a bright and cheery holiday season points to a deeper longing, I think. It’s not about the holly or the ivy or the presents or the lights. For me, this year has drawn attention to a yearning for someone or something to “disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadows put to flight”.
Do you know the feeling?
As I’ve sung carol after carol these past weeks, I’ve been struck by how many holiday hymns hold the tension of real sorrow and great hope.
There is no blithe, Pollyanna optimism in the songs of the season.
Instead, I’m finding that these songs acknowledge the truth of the world—all the broken, messy, painful truth of it—then rejoice at the gift so graciously given that will turn it all around. They are, in fact, the perfect songs to sing in a year that has been marked by difficulty, despair, and weariness.
I’ve read here and there sentiments that seem to suggest the gospel isn’t enough to bring redemption to present circumstances. That, perhaps, the gospel is a false hope that tries to gloss over real problems in the world.
Nothing could be less true.
The longer this year drags on, the more this truth becomes clear: the fact of Jesus’ birth, life, death, and life again is enough to right the evilest of wrongs, bridge the widest of divides, heal the deepest of wounds and bring true, abiding unity. Only in Jesus is there full, total, glorious redemption for all creation.
That is why there is joy to be found, even in the darkest days. That is why we can sing “Joy To The World”, either with smiles on our faces or tears in our eyes.
Advent is about hope. It is about a season of expectation and waiting and yearning for what is to come, even in the midst of the difficulty that is. Hasn’t this whole year felt like a season of advent?
Christmas is about that hope fulfilled in the most unexpected way: in the form of a tiny baby boy born to save the entire cosmos in a completely upside down way that still doesn’t make sense. And though we are stuck momentarily waiting for him yet again, there is assurance that he will come.
From Revelation 22:
He who testifies to these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon.”
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.
Born Thy people to deliver,
Born a child and yet a King,
Born to reign in us forever,
Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.
By Thine own eternal Spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone;
By Thine all sufficient merit,
Raise us to Thy glorious throne.